


The Dead Robins Club

by Nimravidae



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimravidae/pseuds/Nimravidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles highlighting the relationship between Stephanie Brown and Jason Todd.<br/>Most Recent: Undercover work is hard enough as it is, but thrown in a boyfriend who won't stop worrying about you and now you've got a problem.</p><p>Upcoming: An much-needed conversation about vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Communication

She had no idea why he was doing this, or even why she was doing this.

"Dead Robins gotta stick together."

Okay _maybe_ that’s why he was doing this.

But Stephanie Brown wasn’t convinced at all, she had the actual Red Hood pinned — trapped between her chest and a brick wall. One of his own arms twisted behind him, forcing him to drop his pistol, the other was already swelling at the wrist. And the piece de resistance? Her Bo staff pressing tight against his throat from behind him.

His hood had clattered out, landing with a hollow thunk in the distance. So she supposed he wasn’t just Red Hood right, despite the mask over his eyes. He was Jason Todd again.

Second Robin to exist — first to die, first to be revived. First to kill and go off the rails and probably the first Robin to pull a gun on Batman.

"Listen, cupcake…" And the first to call Stephanie ‘cupcake,’ too. But the scowl he couldn’t see didn’t stop him. "I didn’t kill these guys, I’ve been cutting back. Turns out murder is bad for your health – makes your teeth yellow, you wrinkle prematurely, hair goes white.” Her eyes were drawn to the exposed tuft of white hair for a moment before she was forced to stifle a scoff.

“I’m pretty sure that’s smoking, Red Hood.” She countered, staff pressing harder against his windpipe for a moment, letting him choke. “So, I gotta admit this is my first time catching another bat doing something messed up so do I zip tie your guns to your ankles and drop you off at the GCPD or do I just drag you to the Cave and let B sulk and gloom at you for a whole lifetime?”

“I’ll take GCPD,” Stephanie couldn’t see his face but she was pretty sure he was either smirking or scowling judging by that tone in his voice. “I’d take Arkham over B anyday – but seriously, I’m here to help.”

“Then why did you jam my communicator? Also can you undo that, I’d much rather let him pick you up here.”

“Not me,” Why did she feel like that was a lie? “No, seriously. It wasn’t me. But mine’s patched through already and if you let my other hand go, I can turn it over to the frequency and you can call the unholy ghost up yourself.”

Letting him go was a mistake, she learned as his elbow drove into her gut and threw the blonde back. By the time she scrambled back to her feet, both the man and the hood were gone. Just a communicator blaring sound at her feet. She pressed it against her ear, hearing the muffled noises through her cowl: _Batgirl. Come in, Oracle to Batgirl. I repeat, Oracle to Batgirl your location is gone and I can’t get a read on your vitals._

“O?”

_Batgirl, what’s your location? Sending Red in, the communicators need a manual fix for this one…”_

“I don’t think that’s necessary, I can get back to the cave no problem.”

_What communicator are you using by the way? It’s not one of ours but it looks like the lines secure, where did you get it?_

“From Jason Todd.”

_Get your ass back to the cave._


	2. The Black Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie gets a late-night pep talk from the stranger at her window

The night danced towards morning, dawn would soon bleach out the darkness on the horizon as the haze of streetlights and pollution started to fade over the Gotham skyline. Criminals were already starting to feel their rushed heartbeats calm knowing no bats would find them when the sun finally rose. Calmness began to settle over what had been a hectic night and finally Stephanie Brown could catch some sleep.

She was sprawled over her sheets, Batgirl armor stuffed haphazardly into her closet on just the prayer that her mother won’t see it in the morning. She had blindly stumbled into a pair of pajama bottoms before collapsing sore and exhausted into her bed, pawing at a pillow to tuck her face into and all she wanted to do was be out the moment she closed her eyes.

But her mind was far crueler than that.

Every time she tried she could see his face, lips she used to love kissing pulled into a scowl, eyes narrowed behind a pulled-back cowl. She could hear him echoing in her head all the way down to her chest.

You don’t deserve to be Batgirl.

Maybe not those exact words – but she knew what he meant. She would never be good enough for him. She could save his ass day in and day out, she could spar and finish trails in record time. She could put away every last criminal in Gotham but Tim Drake would never, ever see her as an equal. See her as a hero or even something useful, would he?

And to think she dated him.

With a muffled cry of frustration, Stephanie pulled the pillow closer to her face and rolled onto her stomach, knees tucking in to her chest.

First Batman, then Tim. Would no one give her a chance? Did no one believe that she could be better than she used to be? The bruises of a long night of patrol and fighting throbbed with each stiff movement, skin rising in goose bumps as a breeze washed through her room.

Wait. She did close the window when she swung back in, right? Another breeze answered that question for her, sending her homework drifting over the floor. She’d have to make a mental note not to clean that up later, she figured as she sat up, heels of her palms pressed against her eyes to rub away the exhaustion that clung to her.

The window came into a blurry focus, but so did the figure standing there. Her heart stuttered on a beat, eyes finding the door to her closet. No way she could get to her gear in time from her bed. Shit. The shadow looked almost like it could've been Dick -- or Bruce at a very hard stretch -- and she really, really hoped it was.

“Who are—“ Please be Batman.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nope, not Batman. “Batgirl.” Oh shit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Stephanie tried to argue, her tongue thick and heavy. He couldn’t know. Only four people knew, and Stephanie sure as hell didn’t tell anyone about her secret identity.

“Spoiler, Robin, Batgirl. Weird chain of events if you ask me,” the figure continued, shadows obscuring him still. If he shifted just right, she could see the fringes of a brown leather jacket but everything else was a victim of the last tendrils of night.

“Who are you?” She repeated, lean muscles taut, coiled like a serpent to strike.

“You don’t need them, Stephanie Brown. I know you think you do but, trust me – it’s just a battle you’ll never win. If you want to be a hero, be one. Batman can’t stop you, he’ll huff and puff and threaten you with everything he’s got but he won’t stop you. You don’t _need_ his approval, you don’t _need_ his leadership. You'll get used to being the black sheep of black sheep once you give up on seeking approval you’ll never get. Trust me.”

That was… comforting? But did someone just break into her apartment to give her a pep talk? And seriously, who is this nutjob??

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, measured and careful. But her heart was beating three speeds too fast, if it was nerves she couldn’t tell. Maybe more adrenaline or something.

“Of course you don’t,” he stepped back towards the window, one hand resting on the parted glass. “Just remember what I said next time Drake tries to kick you while you’re down.”

When he left, ducking down from her windowsill, Stephanie swore she saw a flash of red in the night. 


	3. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undercover work is hard enough as it is, but thrown in a boyfriend who won't stop worrying about you and now you've got a problem.  
> (In which Stephanie and Damian go unfortunately undercover)

“This is pointless and thoroughly ridiculous.”

“No that’s just your outfit."

“I would refrain from your commentary if I were you, Brown.”

“I know for a fact you have exactly zero weapons on you; and besides, _honey_ , what did we walk about manners?”

The bat-glare Stephanie Brown earned for that one was almost enough to make her skin crawl – that is if it wasn’t coming from the 12-year old Robin (one who was currently wearing an oversized Superman shirt, dirt-stained jeans – ones which he notably didn’t stain himself – and untied converse). Right now it was damn right adorable and she had to hold back a side-ripping laugh.

“My mistake, _mother,_ ” God never mind that was creepy. She crinkled her nose and tried to ignore Dick’s gut busting chortling in her earpiece.

Creedale Junior High School was right around the corner, leaving the grass they were walking over to bustle and cover with students and parents alike. Each one was whispering and nudging, mothers fussed over sons and made their daughters look them in the eye before they promised not to go home with strangers. Everyone had that shifty look in their eye, glancing from side to side with wild sweeps. Eating up information and faces like it was nothing.

As if one of them was the monster abducting children from the schoolyards at random – Batman had his ideas though. He just needed someone inside and someone to deliver an anonymous kid to the best-kidnapee-school and since Bruce Wayne was pretty recognizable she was left with the job.

Stephanie Marus and her son, David.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder tightly, pushing the resisting brat more towards the school. He growled at an astonishingly low level as they passed some weird-as-hell-looking kids. Big hair, flashing jewelry. Something about being ‘random’. Stephanie walked faster, ignoring the increasing pitch of Damian's snarl in front of her as she made the way right to the front gate. The crowd thinned inside the building – making it easier to weave their way to an unoccupied room.  

“You know how this is going down, Dave?” She cooed, fixing his hair despite the way he swatted at her hands.

“Of course I do I have had far more training than you could ever dream of, you wretched – yes, Mother.” He corrected himself faster this time, a notable improvement but really, Stephanie had the feeling kids were not going to like him too much. Which she would find equal parts sad and hilarious of course.

“Good.” She straightened and ruffled his hair, ignoring whatever words scratched from the Devil Spawn’s throat, it didn’t even sound like English, but she doubted it even was to be honest. She noticed he swore more often than not in different languages as if Alfred didn’t already know what it meant. She was just about to call him out on it when a heavy hand fell sharp on her shoulder. She acted on instinct, dipping down and twisting the arm. She forced the owner down to his knees, lips curling into a snarl before she even noticed who it was.

“I see you’ve gotten better,” The voice was like heavy gravel and shattering glass. Ridged with death and as thick as the stench of cigarette smoke on his jacket.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Jason? You could botch the whole mission,” She wasn’t about to let him up just yet – boyfriend or no boyfriend.

He struggled for a moment to get back up but she kicked him back down, heel balanced on his elbow. “I’m trying not to do that right now so if you don’t mind letting go, that would be great. All I’m doin’ is making sure you’re good. Something about the building shorted out your comm unit the moment you stepped in and Dick wanted me to make sure you’re okay, for fuck’s sake.”

There you go. Steph finally stepped down, letting him rub his shoulder a bit. He could have broken her hold noisily but maybe he was here to help instead of hurt.

After a moments rest, the big angry red bird turned to her, hand smoothing his hair back. The little tuft of white stuck up more than the dark curls that were so easily mused by the hood. It was long-missing, but Jason didn’t seem to come in guns blazing. He was even wearing a real shirt.

Few points to him on the Boyfriend front. Hell, it was even clean.

Still, he lost twice that on the sole purpose of, “I don’t need a babysitter, Tood.” Lips in a thin line, Stephanie shot a dirty look over her shoulder where she could not only hear Damian laughing at her but _feel_ the scorn in the air. He didn’t even shut up – he just gave that vicious shit-eating smirk. Slowly she turned back to Jason, blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a babysitter,” she repeated, “now come on, Damian, we’ve got kids to save.”

Boyfriend or not, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t let him be Tim Drake all over again – hell no. She opened the door, Damian on her heels after throwing another scathing comment at Jason. But of course he wouldn’t give in just like that, he followed her right through, about to say something probably stupid.

But he didn’t get a chance too, because the second she stepped out – she stepped right into the principal’s path, colliding sharply with the poor woman.

“Miss Marus!” The older woman exclaimed, old eyes widening in shock as she stumbled back a touch before regaining her balance. Steph was lucky enough to be caught by Jason – not that she’d admit that.

“Oh, hello ma’am,” she tried to save face, smiling bright as she could. “We took a wrong turn somewhere, ended up in there.”

She pushed Damian forward, “This is the son of mine, the one I told you about.”

The principal knelt down, saying something while Steph glared at Jason, viciously gesturing for him to get the hell **out** before she said anything. But sure enough, he got that stupidly cute smile on his face and slid his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come before, Ms….”

“Smiths. Ms. Smiths, you must be Mr. Marus,” Ms. Smiths stood, extending a hand to shake with Jason. “I was under the impression David here didn’t live with his father.”

“Not the biological one, no,” His lies came too smooth and Stephanie made a note to kick his ass later. Then kiss him really, really fucking hard. “So, should we move on with the enrollment, then?”

Ms. Smiths was so easily charmed.

Maybe she’d forgo the asskicking. 


End file.
